


His Beauty Shines Behind The Mask He Wears

by Malen



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age - Various Authors, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Solas - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malen/pseuds/Malen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fan Writing on a perspective of Solas</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Beauty Shines Behind The Mask He Wears

Chapter One

 

He picks through the remains of his kill, a wolf.  
He knows the bite is what makes them so ferocious, so he removes  
the jaw bone, cleans it and casts his spell.  
Still weak from his awakening, still confused by what he sees.  
Everything feels so real, but can it be?  
He thought the visions he was surrounded by in the fade, were just the visions  
of those lost, he did not realize how real they truly were.  
Quickly now, his mask pulled tight he walks to see the commotion up close.

“Get her to Adan, we need her alive” A bold and caring voice punches through.  
Louder than he is used to. But, he can still feel, and he knows the voice is only bolstering  
out in desperation. He can sense the magic, its fades as they carry off the body of an elf.  
He must act, he must see what his old friend has done with the Orb.  
His entrance must be precise, he is an apostate in the minds of these people and with the war going on, he can only be too careful.  
Cassandra paces - worry, concern, fear, anger all mixing and heating her aura.  
He firmly makes his presents and offers his help, explaining his unending knowledge in such  
a rare and unusual case. He knows it is an unwelcome assistance, but he must persuade them, he must get close to the magic that calls to him.  
Walking in, he is greeted with looks of suspicion and unease, but his focus is draw to the delicate  
woman elf, lying barely alive on the bed before him.  
Nothing exists. Nothing beyond his thoughts of how and why she has this magic and how she survived;  
if she survives and what will happen to the magic if she does not make it?  
Hours upon hours, studying her, the mark, the rifts... what has happened?  
He barely notices the sneering and darted eyes and questioning by Cassandra; but must draw his attention to her so that he can remain in alliance with the unknown elf, holding this magic.  
What time he does not spend by the unknown elves side, he is out trying to seal the rifts in the sky…  
Just one more time, I must… it must work, he thinks to himself.  
His exhaustion only meets him as he watches her, he doses off into the fade, searching for answers to what has transpired. This world has not seen this since his time in the fade, so his answers only lay, with her… the mortal who bares his magic. A million thoughts streaming through him, who is she? What will she do with this power? How did she come to be?  
While he is resting, she stirs… the commotion wakes him.  
He runs out, to find that Cassandra has ordered her to be put in Irons, something he knows well of from his journeys in the fade. humans never put any faith into an elf. He talks with Leliana, she will hear reason.  
Without her, we have no way to heal the skies.  
“Don’t let Cassandra bring her harm! We must see if she can close the rifts”. His pleas are heard.  
“Go with Varric and help the others, if you are truly with us. I will protect her.” Leliana’s words are not faint. He travels with Varric to a help fight the nightmare pouring out of the rifts in the sky.  
Within what feels like moments, a familiar feeling coming up from behind, demons fall, her hand now by his side. It screams at him, pulls at him, he grabs her hand and guides her power toward the rift. It closes.  
“It seems you hold the key.”  
“So I can help.” Her words echo within him, a kindness…hope.  
“I am pleased to see that you still live.” Calm comes over him, more than anyone.  
“What he means is, I watched over you and made sure that mark didn’t kill you” Varric says holstering Bianca.  
He introduces himself, feeling his hope restored.  
“You seem to know a lot about it." Her voice, like whispers from before.  
Now is not the time to feel nostalgic, we are not done here.  
They continue on, fighting and she seems to master the magic in her hand, as if she’s known it all along. He now knows, what is to come.  
The rift is large, the demons that come out of it are almost too much for them to handle, she fights  
with the strength of an old power, but the rift only closes, still marking the sky.

As they return to Haven, she listens to all that they have to say about the events that led up to this day. She claims to carry no memory of it all and fears what is to happen to her in the days to come.  
All she can think to say and do, is fight. Fight for whatever she has to.  
When they are not fighting the demons or securing their place as the Inquisition, he spends his time researching what has become, what comes next.  
He must learn the new magic that surrounds him, the world, what has it become? He must find answers.  
He catches himself surprised by her. She is pure, willing, as if she has prepared her whole life for a moment like this.  
She always sits next to him at camp listening to everyone discuss… her... and what is to be done.  
Like a lost spirit drifting in the fade. She glows.  
She is looking for a moment where she can breathe.  
But she disguises it in questions, always asking everyone their thoughts as if they all matter, each and every one. He wishes to know her will, drawn in by her selfless actions.

His attention is pulled at. She comes to see him while the sky is breaking into night. For her dreams are not the same and sleep has become a recurring nightmare, that she can never remember. Always waking from in sweat and tears. Confusion still crashes at her with every move, even though everyone is looking to her, an elf!  
He is familiar, but different. He looks like an elf but moves to a song long lost, only to be found in pieces of the stories of old, the forgotten tales that few clans try to cling to. How does he know? He is an apostate and a loner, self-taught? What secrets does he hold? What can she learn? Could this be why her Keeper sent her to the conclave? She must know more.  
After securing horses for the Inquisition, taking care of the immediate needs of the people around her, she gathers her new friends to head to face the Chantry. The Chantry, a people who cast people like her out, like him… the people who seek to imprison her. The people who stole their beliefs and twisted them into their own. He is held for a moment away from the fade by this. She could just run, leave, or tear them all down, but she instead goes in peace to face them.  
He is humbled by her. This is not the behavior of someone from this time, why does she echo voices of old? She is mortal.  
This last step, may even have been too much for her.  
As if the voice calls to him, he finds himself walking in the cold night, outside of Havens walls.  
He sees a faint campfire and hears the slight weeping, a sound that crashes inside of him.  
For a moment he stops, telling himself no. But, the pull is stronger than his own will.

Walking up he sees the young beauty, curled up like a halla in the night’s cold. She is clenching her hands tightly, the smell of fresh burning herbs fill the air, and she is praying to a god he knows is not there. Tears flowing, like the streams of blood from their peoples ages of murder. She glows even when she is broken. Her white hair let down in a messy tangle. Her eyes drowning in the flood her soul brings. He must walk away. He turns to leave before she senses him, “Fen’harel take me”… he hears her breathe out … the whisper falls on him heavy as he returns to his room.  
That night, he calls on the Spirit of Compassion. He asks it to come forth to comfort her.  
A day later she comes to see him, no sign of tears, nothing but a light around her and smile on her face.  
“I need to talk with you, I have an important choice to make and can use some of your insight”.  
He is a bit drawn, but has thus far answered any questions she has had, so he complies.  
They spend hours discussing who to pick to help them close the large rift. With every question, every reply he feels himself pulling more toward her, her hands fumbling, the way her lips rest between words, she is fierce but so delicate. She wants to help and make the best choice, but to ask him? If only she knew, but it’s his chance, he knows from experience and he could be a part of it, a part of something good. After, a serious discussion for some time, he finds himself answering questions he never thought anyone would ask of him. About him. His experiences in the fade, with spirits, about the world becoming one again… no one thinks like this, why her?  
She continues to surprise him, but he must stay guarded, he pushes at her when she asks of him to tell stories of his dealing with the elves, he knows this will hurt her, but he must not get this close.  
He has been hurt before, that betrayal still fresh in his veins.  
Again, her brightness out shines his muted view of himself. She wants to make up for any wrong they have caused him? She matters… he knows this now.  
He catches himself desiring to see her indomitable spirt…well dominated, this lust, its… it’s not right.  
He must stop, but she pulls him away from the fade and he cannot help but indulge in the connection that he has so rarely felt. She has taken an interest that no, normal moral would even consider.  
In the days and weeks to come, their travels lead them though rain soaked coasts and imperial greatness stolen from the elven lands of before. She gains more and more support for the Inquisition. Heralding in Qunari, Tevinter, thieves, smugglers, lost ones turned to cults, even a grey warden, people from all corners, coming out to support… her.  
She leads and defies, as if there is no force that can stop her. She leads by helping, by shining brightly. She cuts down the ill-minded and she moves like death, yet whispers brightly.  
He even finds himself distracted…he wants to stop the world if only to be with her.  
But as the story goes, he is reminded again, to focus. Lost in death, a year of entrapment, controlled by Red Lyrium. How it is possible, he lost her… he lost everything…he hears Cassandras prayers, and tears every day, he hears the beats of his heart slowing, how does it end like this?  
A sound… a feel… familiar… could it be? No!  
He turns, his world awoken again, it’s her… but how? Standing by the one who came from the people who took everything from the elves, his confusion grows. But, after an explanation, he offers his life to her to end this world that they have been trapped in… knowing it’s his mistake.  
Once again, her light leads them through, but she only thanks him.  
For it was him who helped her decide to seek out the mages, and without seeking them out,  
they may have been too late. She always made him feel important, needed, wanted.  
They now can finally close the rift and end this all.  
With the mages in line, he directs them to channel their energy past her, for her to feed off of…  
this is it! Her strength brought them here.  
The rift can be sealed and he can again focus on finding his orb.  
The people’s celebration warms the whole town. The laughter and cheers echo throughout, even the spirits are pressed against the veil to see the glory. But this does not last long and he is called out to the cries of the people. He has come. The one of which he gave the orb, sending in an army cloaked in the evil they lived in at Redcliffe. He cannot escape it and he awaits it. His chance to get back what he should have never given. his focus turned as Compassion shows up for a message that reaches past her, and on to him.  
"He wants to kill her", Compassion states. He has finally come to help.  
There is more going on, he thinks to himself, Compassion would have come sooner to ease her tears, but he is a boy? Human, but spirit? He is not just here for her.

The battle was long and heavy, it brought many things to life, but at the cost of so much death.  
They are separated, she commanded their escape while she….she stayed behind.  
Hours left behind in the blizzard brought from the avalanche. They leave camps behind just in case, lost, cold, and destroyed. The camp has lost its Herald and their hope. He has lost yet another beautiful soul and the magic he swore to protect.  
But once again, she remains. Cullen carries her down from the mound, frozen, and distraught. The people clamor around her. She is safe with them. How he wishes he could be by her side, but she is not for him, she is for the people. This he knows, but even to have the time with her, it’s real enough for him.  
Maybe just a little more. He can help, he can give her the exaltation she deserves. He can show his admiration and help end what he caused. He can give her a home, buried beneath ages of death and abandonment. A once powerful elven home. A home she deserves.  
He moves in to steal her away, not only for his own need, but to give her the direction only he can.  
He cares how she views him, he walks deliberately, lights a fire to keep her warm. His actions are his, he wants her to notice him as he is, powerful and noble. He wants her to see that he has put his trust in her too.  
She sees him, a beautiful elf, magical and charming. Falling deeply for him, she cannot get enough of him, she wants to absorb every moment. Honestly he is the only thing really keeping her from running. She wants to help, but he makes it easier somehow. He makes it all worth it. Everything that is happening to her, maybe it’s all for him. Never once does she want it for herself. But, she also feels that he is guarded and hurt, will he ever let her in? She feels more drawn to him, than anything ever before.  
Together they lead the people, but the people only see her. This is the way every old story is told. They see the immediate object, not what’s behind it.  
This suits him fine.  
He wants her to have every bit of glory.  
He wants her to have everything.  
If only he knew, she felt the same.  
If only he could stay.


End file.
